More Than Meets the Eye
by StraightLife116
Summary: Mark Calaway's world is rocked when his infidelity catches up with him. Now with his wife and daughters gone, he's forced to raise his love child on his own. Will this little boy help Mark regain love? Or will it be the end of them all? Taker, RkO, SCSA
1. Chapter 1

_I don't own any WWE wrestlers or figures utilized in this story. This is all from the mind of a brilliant scientist._

_Faced with his past, Mark the Undertaker Calaway is forced to raised his seven year old love child. How will this introverted and sensitive young boy change the life of his father and the woman of his dreams?_

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><p>Mark Calway sat down on the bench in his locker room and buried his face into his hands. <em>How could this have happened, <em>he thought. Mark glanced up at his wife in disbelief. She wanted a divorce. He couldn't believe it, he thought that this would be the one...that marriage that lasted him into eternity. He sighed again...he'd been wrong.

"Mark, it's not that we didn't try," she said calmly "It's just," she paused, "I just can't deal with the uncertainty." Mark shook his head still in disbelief. He stood up and closed the space between them.

"We can fix this, we can." Sara looked up at the man she once loved and shook her head.

"No we can't," she said stepping away. Mark felt his heart be drawn from his chest. "I don't want to deal with this, with _you _anymore." Mark grunted and then cursed.

"What did I do?" Sara shook her head. "What? Was it that bad that you'd never want to see me again?" Sara took a deep breath.

"You cheated on me, Mark." Mark looked at the woman pointedly. "A lot." Mark shook his head.

"No Sara."

"Yes, Mark," she said with tears in her eyes. "Please don't lie, I know it's true." Mark grunted. It was true, but it had never been intentional, just an urge a woman, and then well...he sighed and looked up at the woman before him.

"One more chance, please." Sara took a deep breath and shook her head. "I'm beggin, ya." Sara grunted and crossed her arms.

"No Mark, I've given you too many chances." Mark felt his rope get shorter and shorter.

"Please, I don't want to lose you," he said pleading, "or the girls, please." Sara shut her eyes, as if she was thinking. Mark's hope soared, maybe she'd trust him, just this one last time. If she did, he swore he'd make it different. Mark grunted as he heard a knock on the door. He shook glanced at Sara who shrugged. Mark angrily threw the door open revealing a man in a suite and a little read headed boy staring at the floor.

"Mark Calaway?" Mark looked at the man in the suite.

"Yeah?"

"Are you Mark Calaway?" Mark rolled his eyes.

"Yes, what do you want?" The man nodded and handed a clip board to Mark.

"This is your son, Jeremy Lance Hele." Mark's head snapped between the young red headed boy and the suite.

"**What?**" Mark shook his head demonstratively and walked around. "This can't be right." The man in the suite shook his head. He stepped past Mark and into the dressing room.

"I thought this would be better done in private." He straightened out his tie. "Mr. Calaway this is your son, your listed as the father on his birth certificate." Mark shook his head.

"This can't be true." The suite shrugged.

"It is, sir. Jeremy's mother Sandra Jones used to work for the Mills Tavern just on the outskirts of Houston." Mark sighed and closed his eyes tight. "Ah, I see you remember her." The man cleared his throat as Mark's gaze hardened on him. He stepped back. "Well sir, she uh passed away during childbirth and gave the boy up for adoption." Mark was confused. "The problem is sir, young Jeremy was adopted by a family of well questionable trades. Last week, we found the boy living in the barn off stale potato chips and the lake water." Mark shook his head and closed his eyes, this day was just getting worse and worse. First Sara's bombshell, and now this? He sighed. Taking a deep breath he opened his eyes and looked at the boy. He grunted, the kid had his eyes, and his hair color, _and _his height. With trembling hands Mark asked one final question.

"How old is he?" The suite smiled.

"Seven." Mark heard Sara snort. He turned to look at her. She'd already grabbed her purse and her keys and was heading out the door.

"To think I thought you had changed," she said. Mark grabbed her arm.

"Sara, please." She shook her head with tears in her eyes.

"We just had our nine year anniversary as a couple," she said. Mark felt the tears in his eyes. She moved to leave again.

"Please?" he rasped out. Sara simply shook her head.

"I won't keep the girls from you." Mark winced as the door slammed shut. He turned to the man in the suite.

"So..." he said obviously distracted. The man smiled.

"Just sign the papers and he's yours." Mark grunted and did so. The suite man left leaving Mark and Jeremy alone. Mark stood at the tall auburn haired seven year old. He smiled, the kid did look like him. Mark shook his head and began to fidget. What should he say to the kid? He took a deep breath and stuck his hand out to the kid.

"My name is Mark," he sighed, "and I guess I'm your dad." The little boy clutched the small youth sized guitar on his shoulder and never took his gaze off of the ground. "So Jeremy is it?" The little boy gulped.

"Lance," Mark could barely hear him his voice was so small.

"I didn't quite hear you."

"My name is Lance." Mark sighed, this was his son, and he didn't even know his name. Some father he was.


	2. Chapter 2

_I don't own any WWE wrestlers or figures utilized in this story. This is all from the mind of a brilliant scientist._

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><p><em>Later that night.<em>

Mark sighed as he pulled up to his large ranch home. He winced as he saw Sara's car gone along with the girl's bikes. Mark grunted. Mark looked at the young boy. He shook his head the kid was at least six or seven inches taller than the average seven year old. Lance snorted in his sleep. Mark sighed, this was definitely his kid. "Lance, wake up." The little boy shot up with a start and looked around. Mark sighed, the kid was skittish beyond belief. "It's time to go inside."

"The house?" the little boy squeaked. Mark rolled his eyes.

"Where else do you think I'd take you." Mark shook his head, "anyway, I'm tired and it's time for you to go to bed so get out of the truck so we can go inside." The little boy looked down from the large tires and gulped.

"It's too high," he said. Mark rolled his eyes.

"Well jump, cause I'm not carryin' ya." Lance took another look at the ground and shook his head. Tears quickly welled up into his eyes. Mark groaned. "Knock it off, you're not a girl." Lance took a deep breath. He looked down again and gulped. Mark sighed, he was already on the other side of the truck and waiting for the little boy to man up. He crossed his arms, he refused to baby the boy. "I don't have all night." Lance closed his eyes and took a leap of faith. He jumped into the air and quickly came back down to the ground...hard. He landed on his hands and his face slammed into the concrete. Mark sighed. "Now stand up and dust yourself off." Lance stood up and did so, but noticeable tears were streaming down his face. "Come on, it's late." Lance turned and looked at the truck. Mark rolled his eyes. "What?" Lance gulped under his tears.

"My guitar," he said trying not to break down completely. Mark rolled his eyes.

"We'll get that in the morning." Lance looked back at the truck. Mark grunted, he didn't have time for this. He grabbed the boy's arm tightly almost pulling him off the ground practically drug him into the house. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Mark could hear Lance's noticeable whimpering. "What's wrong with you?" Lance looked up with tears in his eyes.

"My leg hurts." Mark sighed he picked the little boy up and placed him on the bathroom sink. Mark rolled his eyes.

"You just scraped your knee." Mark turned to leave the room. Lance opened his mouth to ask for help, but thought better of it. The big man wouldn't help him if he was drowning. Slowly Lance slid off of the tall counter and winced when his foot hit the ground. He quietly limped to follow the man who he assumed was his father. "Lance!" The little boy limped faster. He didn't want to anger the scary man. Lance found him in a large empty bedroom pulling out clothes from his bag. The man threw them at him. "Here, change into these so you can go to sleep." Lance nodded and turned to walk out of the room. Mark sighed. "You can change in here, I ain't gonna look at ya." Lance's bottom lip quivered. Mark sighed. "FINE. Just change in here and I'll be back in two minutes," he said nodded quickly and almost instantly began to change clothes, he didn't want Mark to see the scars.

He quickly changed his shorts and into the tattered pajamas. Lance quickly tried to put his shirt on. The little boy muttered a string of curses to himself as he got tangled up in the shirt. He'd always hated shirts. He began to get more were streaming down his cheeks. He heard the door jingle and almost passed out. He needed to finish now! Mark shook his head at the sight, kid couldn't even dress himself. Mark grunted and grabbed the boy's shirt. "Stop struggling," he said roughly, "you're making it worse." Mark gasped as he saw the red zig zagging lines down the boy's back. "Who did this?" Lance felt the tears pour from his eyes. Now he knew. "Lance, answer me."

"Daddy, 'cause I don't listen good." Mark grunted. No wonder the kid didn't want him in the room. Feeling oddly sympathetic he picked the little boy up off of the ground and carried him into the bathroom. Mark carefully applied the ointment onto the boy's still seemingly fresh wounds and then wrapped tape around it. Mark sighed. He saw the tears hanging off of the boy's cheeks. He shook his head, he was going to have to toughen the kid up.

Lance felt oddly pathetic sitting there letting this man he'd just met take care of him. He knew the man didn't like him. He looked down, not one bit. Lance wiped his tears, he didn't want to ruin this. This was his last chance. "I can get down," he said. Mark rolled his eyes, but stepped out of the way. Lance jumped, but almost killed himself. Mark sighed, the kid was clumsy too. Mark was tired, he was really tired. He picked the boy up and quickly walked into his room. Gently he laid the boy onto the mattress.

"Get some rest." Mark quickly left the room and closed the door. He was exhausted. He was father again, and this time he was single. Oh joy.

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><p><em>Two hours later<em>

Lance was sitting straight up in his bed and tried to brush the tears away from his eyes. It was dark and scary in here. He gulped. He wanted some light. He'd found a lamp but it didn't work. Lance did everything in his power to find the door but he just couldn't. He groaned. His belly was aching, he hadn't eaten since yesterday. He rubbed his eyes and sat on the floor. He suddenly felt tired. Very tired.

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><p><em>The Next Morning<em>

Mark stretched and rolled out his bed. He shook his head, it just seemed so much more empty now that no one else was in it with him. "Mark?" Mark's head shot towards the closet. Was he imagining things?

"Sara?" Her figure entered into the room.

"Hello."

"What are you doing here?" Sara shrugged.

"I came to get the rest of my clothes and the girls wanted to get a few toys." Mark nodded and sat back down.

"So you are still leaving?" Sara nodded and wiped away a tear.

"Um, I'm going to take the girls up north to my mom's house for a few weeks. I'll be back and then you can have them for Thanksgiving." Mark nodded still in shock. Sara cleared her throat. "Um, so where is he?" Mark looked at her, like she cared.

"In the guest room near the back." Sara gasped. "What?"

"Mark that room is pitch black at night."

"And?" Sara rolled her eyes and left the room. Mark sighed and followed her.

"Did you leave a light on for him?" Mark rolled his eyes. "Didn't think so. Ugh, Mark you don't think sometimes." Mark grunted, it was too early for this crap. "He's just a little boy Mark. He's probably afraid of the dark." Mark sighed, he hoped not. Sara opened the door and gasped. There was Lance laying on the floor face first. Sara turned and cast a knowing look at Mark. She gently picked Lance up off of the ground. The little boy stirred. "Are you ok?" The little boy looked around scared and then looked down hurriedly when he saw Mark. He nodded quickly. "What happened?" Lance shook his head. "Come on buddy, tell me." Lance looked up at Mark who nodded.

"I uh was scared. It was dark and I was hungry." Sara looked up at Mark and shook her head. Sara stood up and picked the little boy up. Mark sighed as he watched Lance clutch to Sara like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Don't baby him," he said roughly. Sara rolled her eyes.

"That's exactly what he needs," she said as she left the room. Mark rolled his eyes and followed them. Just what the boy needed, more coddling. At this rate the kid would be picking flowers in no time. Mark grunted not if he could help it. He wanted to make a man, not a flower carryin' mama's boy. He was raising a man, not some weak little boy. Oh he'd ensure that.

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><p>Mark sighed as he heard the car doors slam and drive away. He set his mug down in front of him. This was his new reality. He looked at Lance who was eating a breakfast Sara had prepared for him. Mark shook his head, if it was up to him the kid would be eating cereal. The boy pushed his plate away from him. Mark sighed. "Are you done?" Lance nodded staring at the marble counter. "Yes sir?" Lance nodded.<p>

"Yes sir." Mark nodded.

"Alright, go and clear your plate and put it in the sink." Lance climbed off of the stool and limped towards the sink. Mark rolled his eyes at the Spongebob bandage on the boy's knee. Did he really need that for a little scrape? Mark shook his head, the boy was weak.

"I'm done." Mark nodded.

"Well I've gotta finish my coffee and then we'll go see about gettin' you some clothes." Lance nodded. "While we're out, we could get you a hair cut too." Lance shook his head. Mark raised his eyebrow. "Come again?" Lance gulped.

"I like it long," he said quietly. Mark rolled his eyes.

"Ok, you're going to have to speak louder if you want to talk to me and it's not up for discussion. I'm the parent you're the child, understand?" Lance felt tears rise into his eyes.

"Yes sir." Mark nodded.

"Go and brush your teeth, so we can go." Lance stood there. "What now?"

"Can I have my guitar, please?" he said quietly. Mark cupped his hand behind his ear, _what?_ "Can I have my guitar, please?" he said louder. Mark grunted.

"Thing mean a lot to you, huh?" Lance nodded avoiding Mark's eyes.

"Alright, it'll be down here when you finish brushing your teeth." Lance smiled happily.

"Thank you sir." He ran up to hug Mark, but Mark's face hardened.

"Calaway men don't hug," he said coldly. Lance nodded and stepped away. He awkwardly turned away and headed back for the stairs. With each step Lance knew he was fading from his old life and into this new life. A framed picture of Mark and his wife Sara fell off of the wall as Lance passed. He stopped, looked down, and then ran upstairs to his room. He hoped that wasn't a bad omen. Lance had no idea.


	3. Chapter 3

_I don't own any WWE wrestlers or figures utilized in this story. This is all from the mind of a brilliant scientist._

**A/N**: 8 reviews in one night? You guy's rock! Here's a super long chapter!

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><p><em>Three months later<em>

Lance yawned as he rolled out of bed. He ran his hands through his now shorty spiky hair. He put on his dirty tennis shoes and headed downstairs. He absolutely hated this place. He had more chores than he could handle. He had morning chores, afternoon chores, and evening chores. He shook his head. Lance winced as the cold air came into contact with his skin. He shivered, he was so cold. Slowly he began to do his chores. First he had to clean the horse stalls, then he had to open the gates so the animals could roam, then finally he had to collect the eggs from the chickens. It usually took him forty-five minutes to an hour to complete all of them. He sighed, it hurt his hands every time. However on the bright side it didn't hurt to play the guitar any more. Lance began to whistle, maybe it would pass the time quicker.

Mark sighed as he drank his morning glass of coffee. He saw Lance walking back to the house with the basket full of eggs. Mark had no idea what was going on in that boy's head. Why would you wear shorts on a farm? Mark shook his head, it seemed that no matter how many times he told the boy how things should be done, the kid never seemed to listen. Mark shook his head, all he did was lay in the grass and sketch the clouds or sit in his room and strum on that stupid guitar. The thing was old and raggedy and the music he played made his ears bleed. He sighed. Why couldn't he have a son who liked football and motorcycles? No, he got one of those freaks who wear girl jeans. He shook his head, he was still beyond perplexed...where had this kid come from? He looked like him but he sure didn't act like him. Not one bit. This boy was someone all his own. The back door opened. Lance set the eggs down on the counter.

"I finished em." Mark raised his eyebrow.

"All of them?" Lance nodded.

"Yes sir." Mark turned back towards his coffee.

"We'll eat some breakfast and then go and put some clothes in a bag. I've got some meetings I need to go to." Lance nodded. He was grateful to get off of this place. No chores, he smiled. Yay. He was happy, maybe he and Mark would even begin to get along. Lance took a deep breath as he got the bowl out. He sure hoped so.

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><p>The driver honked the horn, Mark grunted, what was taking the kid so long? He'd sent him up there twenty minutes ago to get his bag. He sighed. Hastily Mark walked up the stairway and into the large room. He found Lance trying to put his guitar into the small duffel. Mark rolled his eyes. "Move," Mark said walking towards the boy's bed. Lance stopped and backed away from his suitcase. Mark sighed as he saw the contents in the bag. Two shorts, two shirts, no underwear and two sketchbooks. Mark threw the two books out and set the guitar on the bed. Lance watched anxiously as Mark added another shirt, some jeans, and underwear into the bag. Then he zipped it. Mark turned to Lance. "Let's go." Lance looked between Mark and the bag. Mark rolled his eyes. "No." Lance felt the tears rise into his eyes. Mark grunted. "Knock that crap off. No crying." Lance nodded and wiped his tears. Mark sighed, the kid looked so pitiful. "One sketchpad." Lance ran to the bed and grabbed the pad and clutched it to his chest like it was a precious jewel. Lance stopped and ran his hand over the guitar, he sighed he'd never been without his guitar. Never. "Let's go." Lance shuffled after Mark hastily still staring longingly at his guitar. As much as he wasn't supposed to he felt tears fall from his eyes. He wanted his guitar.<p>

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><p>Lance sat quietly on a crate as he watched Mark talk to his friends. Lance sighed quietly as he watched all the people walk around happily enjoying each other. This place just had some sort of magic to it. He shook his head, it wasn't fair that he was the only one who didn't get to experience it for himself. All day long he had been forced to to go from meeting to meeting with Mark. He closed his eyes tight, he felt like he hadn't spoken in hours. Lance sighed, he was starting to wish he was back at home. At least then he wouldn't be treated like a puppet.<p>

Lance wished things were different. He knew Mark didn't like him very much. Honestly, he didn't like Mark very much either. They were just too different. He twiddled his thumbs. Maybe if he was a good boy Ms. Sara would come by and take him out again. He smiled, he liked it when she did that. Too bad it had only happened twice before and sadly he knew it probably wouldn't happen again. The last time, Mark and Sara had a big fight. Apparently, taking him to the park to hear jazz bands play wasn't very masculine. That fight had been bad. They'd screamed, threw things, and then it had culminated with Mark telling Sara to stay out of his life. Lance sighed, he figured that she would never come back for him. He shrugged, why should she? He wasn't her kid.

Lance began to hum a song to himself, he often found that to soothe his nerves. The last few months had been so difficult. He thought his mama and daddy were mean, Mark took it to a whole new level. Lance had never worked so hard in his life. He sighed, he wished that Mark wasn't so mean to him. He seemed to be nice to everyone else. He adored the girls. He hugged them and kissed them, but he just yelled at Lance. Lance sighed, they were just too different.

The little boy rubbed his head. He shouldn't complain. He was happy to be away from the farm _and _his chores, but he was still upset about Mark making him leave his guitar and his picture sketchbook. What would he do now? He accidentally kicked the crate in frustration alerting the adults attention to him. Oops.

"Hey Mark, who is this?" Mark glanced down at Lance with a harsh look and then back up at the man.

"This is my son Lance, Lance say hello to Mr. Steve." Mark watched Lance stand up slowly.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Steve." The tall bald man smiled.

"Well Mark, you've got him trained well don't ya?" Mark smiled.

"Well you know." Lance felt Mark grab his hand. Great, he was going to yet another boring meeting. Steve the look on Lance's face, he sighed. Poor kid looked bored out of his wits.

"Hey Mark," he said glancing between the man and Lance, "why don't you let me take the kid and show him around while you go to your meetings." Mark shook his head.

"Naw, I'll keep em with me." Steve shook his head.

"Mark look at him, the kid's bored to death. Let me take him and I'll bring him back later." Mark sighed and looked down at his son.

"You want to go with me or with Mr. Steve?" Lance gulped. Mark sighed. "Alright, fine. Have fun and be a good boy." Mark let go of Lance's hand and nudged him towards Steve. Lance grabbed the man's hand. They watched Mark walk off then Steve turned to the little boy and immediately dropped his hand. Lance smiled, he hadn't had freedom like this in a long time. Maybe this could turn out well for him.

"So fella, what do you like to do?" Lance shrugged.

"Play my guitar and draw." Steve laughed. He knew that stuff drove Mark nuts.

"You any good at the guitar?" Lance shrugged.

"I think so. Everyone says I am." Steve smiled.

"Well, I'm going to be staying at the same motel as you and your dad, do you think you could play for me?" Lance shrugged shyly and then remembered earlier that morning.

"No sir, I can't." Steve sighed.

"Why not?"

"He wouldn't let me bring it. Said it was too much trouble." Steve sighed, Mark was sure a piece of work.

"Well I have mine. Can you show me some songs?" Lance nodded happily. Yeah!

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><p>Mark walked back around from the meeting with Vince and heard a familiar sound of singing and strumming. He grunted. He thought for just once he would get two days without hearing that incessant racket. He rubbed his temples as he came up to a crowd. He shook his head. These people better not be encouraging this crap. He walked and saw his son, standing on a crate singing with his eyes closed. Mark watched the boy strum and sway, he smiled, the kid seemed natural. Like he was born with that guitar in his hand. Mark shook his head, even if he did hate the music, he had to admit the kid was good.<p>

"He's really good isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is," he said glancing at the woman next to him. Mark did a double take. The woman was beyond captivating. She had long blonde hair and a smile to die for. His breath was taken away.

"I just love the sound of a beautiful guitar playing. It brings me to such a beautiful place." Mark smiled.

"Yeah, me too." The woman smiled at him.

"Mark right?"

"Yeah," the man said clearly captivated. "And you are?" The woman opened her mouth to speak but Steve's voice drowned her out.

"Well lady's and germs, I do think that Young Mr. Calaway here has outplayed me." The crowd laughed. "Let's give him a hand." Mark smiled with pride as he saw his son smile with pleasure at the applause he was given. Lance took the strap off and handed the guitar back to Steve. The older man shook his head. "No, you've earned it buddy. You play better than me any day of the week." Lance shook his head.

"Sir, won't like it." Steve's eyes narrowed.

"You call your dad, 'sir'?" Lance shrugged. Steve leaned close to Lance's ear.

"You just tell 'sir' that good ole Uncle Steve says yes, ok?" Lance looked unsure. Steve smiled. "I demand you take it and I won't take no for an answer." Lance smiled and nodded.

"Thank you sir!" The little boy jumped off the crate and ran towards Mark who was now alone. He wanted to hug him with excitement but he thought better of it. He stopped short as he saw Mark raise his eyebrow at him. "Um, Mr. Steve gave me this, he said I was better than him." Mark grunted, he hoped he hadn't begged for it.

"Oh really?" Lance sighed feeling a little down. This wasn't going how he'd planned.

"Yes sir." Lance looked up at his father. "Do you think I did good?" Mark shrugged still looking at where the blonde used to be.

"I only heard a little bit of it." Lance sighed.

"Oh." Mark rolled his eyes.

"Come on, I've gotta get ready for the show." Lance gulped.

"May I go to the big locker room, Randy and Mr. Steve said I could?" Mark chewed his lip, that would give him time to find that blonde.

"Did they really say that?" Lance nodded.

"Yes sir." Mark nodded.

"You know where it is?" Lance nodded again hoping he'd say yes.

"Alright, go on. Have someone bring you to me when it's over." Lance nodded. Mark gave him a nod of approval and Lance quickly began walking away. "And stay in the locker room," he added. Lance nodded as he began to walk away faster. He didn't want Mark to see him cry. Lance shook his head, he just wasn't good enough.

Mark shook his head at Lance's retreating form. One day the kid would be tough like him. One day. He smiled, now to find that blond beauty.

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><p>Lance was sitting in a corner waiting for the tears in his eyes to stop flowing. He didn't want anyone to see him crying. He was a man, not some little girl. At least that's what Mark always had said to him. He grunted, but he just couldn't help it. Mark was his daddy and he hated him. He just knew after that show, Mark would understand him. Understand his music and then they'd be friends. Lance sighed, but he'd failed. Like always. He wiped his nose. That's how he'd gotten those scars. Daddy had told him to pick up all the needles off of the floor, but he'd missed some. He shuddered. He hadn't known that they were there, but it still stop him from taking the TV antenna to his back.<p>

"Honey, are you ok?" Lance looked up and quickly wiped his nose.

"Uh huh, I was just leaving." The woman grabbed his arm.

"Whoa, buddy not so fast. What's wrong?" Lance just shook his head. Why should he tell her his business? The lady picked him up and set him on the crate. "You're the little boy from the guitar with Steve right?" Lance nodded and wiped his eyes.

"Yes ma'am." The woman smiled.

"Aren't you a sweetie pie?" Lance smiled. The woman's heart tore for him. Why was he so closed off and reserved? "Now, tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing." The woman smiled.

"You got a lot a tears there for nothing." Lance laughed. The woman smiled, they were getting somewhere now.

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><p>Mark sighed he figured he'd take Lance for an ice cream. After all he felt bad for the little guy. Mark shook his head, he'd let the gorgeous woman invade his thoughts. He could have at least told the kid he was good. He walked into the locker room and looked around. Lance wasn't anywhere to be found. He sighed. "Randy, you seen muh boy?" Randy shook his head.<p>

"Naw, he said he was gonna find you earlier." Mark rolled his eyes.

"And you let him?"

"John said he was takin' em." Mark shook his head, John was sitting right next to Randy. Note to self, those two are idiots. He turned and left. He whistled as he walked down the hallway. Where was the little guy? Mark sighed when he saw Steve's guitar leaning against the hallway wall. Mark shook his head and picked it up. The kid didn't even respect gifts. Mark grunted he was getting angrier by the minute. Mark heard a familiar voice.

"I don't know, I just hate cleaning the stalls, it makes my hands hurt." The woman laughed. Mark shook his head, even her laugh was beautiful. He turned the corner.

"Jeremy Lance." Lance shot off of the crate and wiped his face.

"Yes sir?"

"I told you to stay in the locker room." Lance gulped. "And you left Steve's guitar in the hallway?" Lance looked down. "Is that how I expect you're going to treat the gifts that I give you?" Lance shook his head.

"No sir." Mark rolled his eyes as he saw tears well into Lance's. He handed the guitar to Lance. The woman stood up.

"Don't be too hard on him." Mark sighed. She really was beautiful.

"And you are?" The woman smiled.

"Michelle, I'm a new fairly new around here." Mark nodded.

"Well Ms. Michelle, my son and I are headed off. You have a good night." Michelle nodded.

"Lance, you've got my number, ok?" The little boy nodded. Michelle walked off leaving Mark and Lance. Lance stole a glance up at Mark who was looking down at him scowling. Mark grunted.

"You're going to give that guitar back to Steve." Lance looked down quickly. He'd only left it there for a few minutes. Mark pushed the boy ahead of him. "Why did you lie to Randy?" Lance sighed.

"I didn't. I told the truth. I just couldn't find you." He began to cry. Mark thumped him against his skull with his large finger.

"Don't you dare start that." Lance wiped his eyes as they came up to Steve. Mark nudged the boy forward. "Go on." Lance sniffed the tears back into his eyes.

"I um didn't take care of the gift you gave me, so here it is," he said practically throwing the guitar at the bald man in front of him. Steve looked at the guitar in his hand and then down at the devastated little boy and then back again.

"What did you do with it?" Lance stared at his shoes. He opened his mouth to speak but Mark did before he could.

"You look him in the eye when you talk to him." Lance gulped trying to hold his composure.

"I left it in the hallway." Steve nodded.

"You gonna do that again?" Lance shook his head.

"No sir, never." Steve nodded. He wanted to give the guitar back to the kid, but the scowl on Mark's face said that he would have none of that. He shook his head.

"Well I'll just keep it for you for the next time, ok?" Lance nodded.

"Yes sir." Steve smiled. He looked up at Mark and whispered.

"You're being too hard on him." Mark rolled his eyes.

"He's weak." Steve sighed.

"He's a baby." Mark grunted and grabbed Lance's sweaty hand.

"Don't tell me how to raise my son. I'm going to make a man out of him, even if it kills me." Steve shook his head as he watched the pair walk off. Yeah, he'd make a man out of him alright, at the expense of their relationship. Steve sighed, he just hoped that Mark would come to his senses before it was too late. He shook his head. At the rate Mark was going, that was going to happen sooner rather than later.


	4. Chapter 4

_I don't own any WWE wrestlers or figures utilized in this story. This is all from the mind of a brilliant scientist._

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><p>Lance happily strummed his guitar as he sat on the living room floor enjoying every note that passed through his ears. He couldn't help but to smile as his little fingers ran across the strings. It was such a sweet sound. <em>Sweet. <em>Lance loved how that sounded in his head. He smiled. Oh yeah, this was a _sweet_ sound. He loved how he could disappear into the song and forget where he was, or all of his problems. Some times he'd even be able to imagine his life with another family who made him breakfast, played the guitar and sang with him, _and _gave him lots of hugs and kisses. He laughed out loud at himself, yeah right. Mark would probably lock him in the garage if Lance tried to hug him.

He shook his head, as far as Mark was concerned Lance was already locked in the garage. All he used him for was a farm hand or an instant baby sitter. He sighed, that's what he was supposed to be doing anyway. It was Marks' day with the girls which of course meant he spent that Lance was either left out of activities or made to watch the five and two year olds. He blew out a breath, at least with Mark focusing on the girls he wasn't yelling at him. Lance smiled, at least there was a bright side. His smiled deepened as he remembered what his mother always used to tell him, 'you could see the sun in a tornado'. Even though his parents weren't very nice, there were still moments where he knew that they did care about him, even if it was only a little bit. He gently began strumming a new song he was working on, he called it 'rainy day'. Lance was very particular about how he wanted his songs to sound, and this one had to be perfect. It was the one he was going to use to show Mark just how he felt. Then he'd listen and understand. It hadn't happened the last time, but this time it'd be different. It had to. Lance moved his finger up and down the fret board, he cursed as he plucked a bad chord. He heard grunting.

"I heard that, boy." Lance shook his head in frustration and looked up at Mark who had his hand extended. He looked back down at the cherished piece of wood in his hand. Mark snapped at him. "I ain't got all day." Lance sighed in frustration and weakly handed the guitar to Mark. Mark looked at it and then back at the little boy who had tears in his eyes. He shook his head, there was no way this was his kid. How was this possible? He grunted. "Knock that off." Lance wiped his nose and eyes quickly. Mark rubbed his eyes with his free hand and grabbed Lance with the other. Mark grunted as he began walking down the hallway with Lance being practically drug behind him. "I thought I told ya to stay with your sisters." Lance sighed, Mark had said that, but he was bored, all they did was play with dolls and stupid girl stuff. Mark grunted, why wasn't the kid answering him? "Well," he said roughly. Lance used his free arm to wipe his face.

"I was bored, they don't do nothin'." Mark grunted.

"Those are you little sisters." Lance sighed.

"I know, but..." the spoke stopped talking abruptly when he saw Mark glaring down angrily at him green eyes blazing. Mark shook his head and stopped he opened the door to the playroom where the girls were. As soon as the door open the girls dropped their dolls and ran towards Mark.

"Daddy!" Mark easily dropped Lance's arm and used both of his hands to pepper the girls with kisses and hugs. Lance sighed as he stood off to the side feeling awkward. He watched as Mark smiled at the two young girls he adored. Lance shook his head, they were a family, and he was just an addition. An _unwanted_ addition. He quietly walked over towards his small corner of the room and sat down on the floor. This was their time and he'd just leave them alone. Lance quietly played with his action figures. He wiped a lone tear that fell down his cheek. Why didn't Mark treat him like that? He shook his head, why cry when he knew that would never happen? So much for fitting in. Lance stared at the action figures in his hand grunted. He hated those things, but he knew that playing with them made his dad happy. Lance glanced back over at the trio who was giggling at something and then down to his Stone Cold action figure. Maybe if Steve was his dad, he'd be wanted. Lance chuckled, his dad? Yeah, right. He was stuck with Mark, whether he liked it or not. Mark would be ecstatic to know that Lance wasn't there anymore. Lance shrugged, _he'd_ be ecstatic to know he wasn't there anymore.

"Lance," Mark said roughly. Lance looked up.

"Yessir." Mark set Gracie on the ground. Mark looked pointedly at Lance.

"I'm going into the office. Stay here and play with yer sisters." Lance nodded slowly sensing the grit in the man's voice. Mark kissed the girls. "Be good, I'll be back later." Lance shook his head and turned towards his small wrestling ring, of course he got no kiss.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Lance had discovered two things, his sister hated him, and he hated her. Lance shook his head, Chasey was <em>just <em>like Mark. She hated music, singing, drawing, or anything else that Lance loved and used it to make him feel even more like an outsider. "You're not one of us," she kept saying over and over. And each time she said it, Lance's blood boiled more and more. His name was Lance Calway, he was one of them, he was! Even if he didn't feel like it. Gracie came up to him and tugged on his leg. The small two year old with dark brown curly hair looked up at him. Lance smiled and looked at Gracie, she looked so much like Mark it wasn't even funny. He poked the little girl's side causing her to giggle. Lance smiled. Gracie hugged his legs with her fat chubby little arms. Lance warmed up. Maybe he did have someone to love him, after all. Chasey stomped over to the scene angrily pulling Gracie away from him causing the little girl to squeal angrily. Lance grunted, he was really getting tired of her. "Stay away from her," the little girl growled. Lance rolled his eyes.

"She's my sister too." Chasey was in his face, well as close as she could get with the height difference. The little girl shook her head stubbornly.

"No she's not! She's mine, you don't count." Lance sighed and reached for Gracie only to have Chasey push him out of the way. Lance snapped and pushed her back. Gracie flew across the room and fell on top of her plastic doll house. Lance gasped, what had he done? Chasey screamed as tears poured from her eyes. She ran from the room screaming for Mark. Lance stood there petrified, he hadn't meant to. Lance's hands began to shake as he heard Mark's angry footsteps thunder up the stairs. He tried not to cry but he couldn't help it, he was dead.

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><p>Lance sniffed as he heard another clap of thunder outside. He was sitting in his room in the middle of his bed praying that the storm would end soon. He wished he could strum his guitar and sing to himself. Another clap of thunder rang throughout the house. He screamed and covered his ears. Tears were pouring down his face now, he was so scared.<p>

He saw a shadow move on the floor. He gasped and closed his eyes. The boy started rocking to himself. He needed to get out of here. He quickly started humming but the sound didn't soothe his nerves. He was beyond scared. He wanted someone to comfort him, _anyone._ He gulped, and looked out of the window. He wasn't supposed to leave his room. He was supposed to "think about what he'd done." Lance quickly wiped his blurry face. He took a deep breath, Mark was his daddy, he'd forgive him and protect him. Lance took a deep breath, he'd have to. Lance slowly took a deep breath and swung his legs over his bed. He quickly began walking towards the door. He didn't want to be in that room when the thing came for him. As fast as he could without running through the house he walked towards Mark's room. He knocked on the door and peeked in. He saw Mark sitting up with Gracie on his chest and Chasey laying on his legs. Lance smiled, Mark was a good daddy. He'd let him stay, after all the girls were already in there. Feeling a little better about the claps of thunder that rang throughout the house Lance walked closer to the bed. He took a deep breath and hopped into the bed.

"What are you doing?" Mark said gruffly. Lance looked at Mark who was looking at him with one eye open.

"Um..." Mark rolled his eyes and rubbed them so that he could see the little boy. Mark sighed, Lance was riddled with fear and he could tell that he had been crying. Mark was disgusted, why couldn't the kid just learn to be a man? He sighed as Lance settled into the bed with them. Mark shook his head. "Unh uh, go back to bed." Lance's head snapped towards Mark. The little boy started crying.

"But, but they're here," he said motioning toward the sleeping girls. Mark shrugged.

"They're girls, you're a boy." Lance's bottom lip quivered causing Mark's disgust to rise.

"What did I say about that?" Lance angrily snorted up his snot and wiped his face.

"Can I stay please, I won't cry no more." Mark laughed, yeah right. "Please Daddy?" Mark rolled his eyes.

"I've told you about that." Lance nodded, hoping that he wouldn't be forced to go back into his room. "You're fine, now get out of here." Lance felt himself break on the inside.

"Please?" Mark grunted.

"No." Lance shook his head. "Don't make me get up." Lance sighed and rolled out of the bed. He quickly fled from the room. He just didn't love him. Lance ran downstairs and hid himself underneath the stairs. At least that way he could wallow in peace. Why didn't his daddy want him?

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><p>Lance woke up the next morning to someone stroking his face. He closed his eyes tightly and then reopened them. "Sweetie?" Lance rubbed his eyes. "Lance?"<p>

"Ms. Sara?" The brown haired woman smiled at him again stroking his face.

"Yeah, Sweetie, why are you down here all alone?" Lance looked around and sighed, he'd fallen asleep on the floor. The woman shook her head, at the sight. Lance's hair was disheveled and she could tell he'd spent the night crying. "Were you scared of the storm?" Lance nodded.

"Uh huh." Sara sighed.

"Why didn't you go and stay with your daddy?" Lance started crying all over again.

"He wouldn't let me." Sara cursed under her breath. Mark was a piece of work.

"Where are the girls?" Lance sniffed.

"In his room." Sara shook her head, if Mark wasn't careful he was going to break this kid. She stuck her hands under his arm pits and pulled the boy into her arms. Lance was scared at first, but relaxed in her arms. He felt so comfortable there. He felt himself being let down out of her arms. He looked up at woman.

"You stay out here while I talk to you daddy." Lance nodded a yes. He gulped as he heard yelling. He started humming. He hated that noise. It made him hurt. Daddy had always told him it was his fault mommy and daddy fought. Lance began to cry. He covered his ears with his hands. Please stop yelling. The door flew open a few moments later revealing an angry Mark who scoffed at the boy and stomped down the stairs angrily. Lance looked around scared. Sara walked out of the room and looked down at Lance. She shook her head, the little boy was so sad.

"What's wrong with sir?" Sara rolled her eyes, of course he couldn't call the man daddy, that'd be too feminine. Sara knelt down to Lance's height. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You're going to come and stay with me and the girls for a little while." Lance's eyes grew large. He started to cry.

"No! Why? Please make him come back, tell him I'll be good and won't cry no more. I promise!" Sara sighed and picked the little boy up into her arms. Lance wrapped his arms around her waist as she walked towards his room.

"It's nothing you did, sweetie. It's just your daddy doesn't understand how to be a daddy to you right now." Lance shook his head with tears still streaming down his face, he didn't believe it. "So we're going to have a sleepover, ok? Does that sound fun?" Lance kept his eyes glued to the floor as Sara packed some clothes for him into a small bag. All he did was shake his head weakly in response. Sara rubbed his head and quickly kissed the boy's head. "It'll be alright, Sweetie." Lance wasn't so sure. He knew why he was leaving, Mark hated him. Lance grunted, and he hated him. As far as Lance was concerned he'd never have a father, _never._


	5. Chapter 5

_I don't own any WWE wrestlers or figures utilized in this story. This is all from the mind of a brilliant scientist._

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><p><em>Three and a half years later<em>

"Lance, get the door!" Eleven year old Lance Calaway rolled his eyes at the voice behind the bedroom door. Of course Lance would have to get it, poor precious Mark couldn't be troubled to get the door. No that would be too much on his back. Chewing his lip Lance set his guitar aside and pulled himself off of the ground. He walked towards the door. The last few years had proven difficult for him. First there was him moving in with Sara and the girls for almost a year. It was great for the most part, but Lance found himself missing his father miserably. It seemed that no matter what good stuff came in Lance's life the ache to have his father's acceptance never went away. Not even his now doting sisters or his award winning talent shows. Somehow he just needed his father. Most would think that would mean that Lance shouldn't have been surprised the day Mark showed up with papers ready to take him back. You'd think it would have been just what they needed, to be separate, but it wasn't. If anything Mark was worse and Lance was dying a little everyday because of it. He shook his head, there was no way he'd be able to withstand this for much longer. None.

Lance finally stepped to the door glancing out the window to see who it was. "Who is it?"

"Sara, sweetheart." Lance smiled and opened the door. Sara looked at the boy almost as tall as she was with his short hair, seashell necklace, and cargo shorts across his skinny legs. She shook her head as he ruffled his short hair. "I thought your dad was letting you grow it out," she said hugging the boy. Lance shrugged.

"I got a C in math so he made me cut it." Sara shook her head, Mark was still being too hard on the boy. Sara walked into the house and looked around. She pulled out two tickets.

"This is for the show at the Loft on Friday night, would you like to go with me?" Lance looked around for Mark and then smiled broadly. Sara smiled at him, he was a quiet boy who really didn't speak unless you spoke to him first. She loved that about him, his demeanor was as almost as refreshing as a summer spring, and almost as rare too.

"I'd love to," he deflated a bit almost breaking Sara's heart. "But you know he's not going to let me." Sara smiled, she could handle that.

"That's why we're not going to tell him." Lance smiled confused. "Your dad is taking _that_ woman out for dinner on Friday so you're staying with us." Lance smiled and the two high fived. Lance knew that if it wasn't for Ms. Sara and his sisters his life would suck more than it already did. He didn't know what he would do without them.

Sara looked into Lance's eyes. She sighed, he seemed so hurt. She pulled the boy close to her and kissed his head. "What's wrong, bubba?" Lance sighed.

"He's making me play football again." Sara shook her head. If you looked at Lance you'd know that hitting someone was the furthest thing from his mind. He was a sensitive soul who enjoyed drawing and singing not bashing people's skulls in. She couldn't believe Mark was still at it. She couldn't fathom how he could make Lance do this, again. You'd think after the last two seasons of Lance refusing to tackle anyone that Mark would have given it up, but no, he was forcing the poor boy to play yet again. She shook her head, sometimes she wondered who this man was.

"Want me to talk to him?" Lance sighed and shook his head slowly. He rubbed the back of his neck, that would only make Mark madder. Then he would say he was sending a woman to fight his battles. Sara sighed, she just wanted to kick Mark's face in sometimes.

"Who is it Lance?"

"Ms. Sara," he said stepping away from the woman as his father as he came down the stairs. Mark nodded at Sara upon entering the room.

"What are you doing here?" Sara rolled her eyes.

"It's nice to see you again too Mark." Mark raised his eyebrow. "Anyway, I just came to drop off some art supplies for Lance's art class." Mark grunted. "Can you help me get them out of the car?" Lance nodded.

"Yes ma'am." Mark held his hand up to stop the boy as he readied to walk past him. Mark looked between Sara and Lance with suspicion.

"I thought I said, no after school activities until that math grade comes up." Lance looked down, he didn't want to agitate Mark further. Sara rolled her eyes.

"Mark this is a specialized course, if he misses a few classes they'll kick him out." Mark shrugged. "They only accepted twenty students in the area and your son was one of them. Don't be an idiot Mark." Mark rolled his eyes and crossed his arm.

"My decision stands." Lance deflated, he felt tears come to his eyes. He quickly tried to shake them off, they would only make Mark angrier. He just kept his head down. Sara noticed Lance's sadness and kicked it up a notch, she wasn't going to let Mark ruin this boy's spirit. She would die before she let that happen. She dropped her hands to her side-fighting position-he wanted to play, let's go.

"But it's ok for him to play football everyday after school?" Mark looked at Lance with fire. Lance felt Mark's glare and gulped.

"Football is constructive."

"So is art." Mark ground his teeth. No it wasn't. Art was stupid, he narrowed his gaze at the woman.

"He's my son, not yours." Sara rolled her eyes.

"He's my daughter's brother and forgive me if I have a heart. Anyone with eyes can see that you're breaking this boy's spirit. He's only got so much give in him before you break him completely. Don't do this to him Mark._ Don't_." Lance grunted he hated feeling like he caused the problems that gave Chasey nightmares. He shifted. He couldn't take much more of this.

"Sara, just back off, alright? He's a boy, I'll handle him." Sara rolled her eyes.

"Like you just let me handle the girls?" She scoffed. "You're all over my business and everything I tell them." Mark grunted.

"Difference is, he is _my _son not ours. I can do what I want with him." Mark crossed his arms, "with that being said, no art classes until his grades come up and that's final." Sara sighed. "I mean it." The short woman shook her head angrily.

"Mark, you're being an idiot." Mark rolled his eyes.

"And you're being a busybody. If I've said it once, I've said it nine million times. Stay out of my business," he ground. Sara laughed, same old selfish Mark. She grabbed Lance's hand and kissed the top of his head.

"Be a good boy, I'll see you soon." She gave the boy a hug.

"Bye," he said weakly. Sara cast one last menacing glare at Mark and left. Mark closed the door and stared at his son. Mark shook his head, he was disgusted with the kid's choice of clothes. Ratty old cargo shorts and a seashell necklace? He rolled his eyes, some man he was making. Lance gulped. "Um, I have some chores to finish. So I'll go and do them, now, so yeah." Mark rolled his eyes and grabbed Lance's arm.

"Did you tell her about football?" Lance gulped. He shook his head. Mark rolled his eyes, his son was a lot of things, a good liar wasn't one of them.

"May I go now?" Mark sighed.

"Yeah." Lance practically fell as Mark let go of his arm. Mark always made him nervous. He sighed and attempted to quickly walk away.

"Oh and don't ever lie to me again, ya hear?" Lance nodded and walked back into the living room. He quickly glanced back to see if Mark had followed him and rejoiced on the inside when he hadn't. He smiled as he picked up his guitar, it had been a birthday gift from Steve last year. It was sick in short. It was a limited edition acoustic set up equipped with an amp plug. Lance was so happy that he had that thing. It was beautiful. He began to sing his song that made his soul weep.

"When a rainy day comes no man knows how long it will last, but when a rainy day ends the man was surprised as how long he'd last. A rainy day is one full of dark clouds and slime..." Lance opened his eyes when he realized that his phone was vibrating. He opened it quickly.

"Jeremy Lance Calaway," the man gave a gravely sarcastic laugh.

"Mark make you answer like that?" Lance rolled his eyes.

"Yes Mr. Steve."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Steve is fine." Lance snorted.

"Sir would kill me." Steve shook his head, he decided to not talk about Mark and his horrible parenting skills. He figured he'd use this time to invest into Lance, after all this kid would need all the help he could get. _All the help._

"So how are you doing?" Lance shrugged then realized Steve couldn't see it.

"Ok, I guess." Steve nodded.

"Still in those art classes you were excited about?"

"No sir, he cancelled em cause I didn't do well in math." Steve shook his head.

"So is he getting you some help?"

"No sir, said I just need to concentrate more."

"So are you going to be in it again after your grades come up?" Lance closed his eyes quickly a took a deep breath, it was a way to stop the tears before they came. He sighed.

"No sir. He doesn't want me to, I'm playing football instead." Steve shook his head that Mark was one of a kind.

"What?" Steve paused. "Alright, you know what, I'm coming by next week and you and me will hang out, how does that sound?"

"Cool," he said. Steve nodded.

"Alright, it's a deal then. Oh hey, but don't tell your dad, got it?" Lance nodded.

"Yes sir." Steve hung up and Lance sighed, Steve would show up and all he would do was make Mark angrier than before. Thanks.

* * *

><p>Lance sat on his bed strumming his guitar while skyping Chasey. He smiled, even though they lived in the same town it was rare that they saw each other aside from the usual Wednesday and every other weekend schedule that they were on. It was funny how close they were considering how bad their start was. Lance smiled, almost immediately after he'd moved in with them he and his sister hit it off. Although their interests were almost exact opposites their humor and desire to have fun was almost exactly the same. He smiled.<p>

"So what did you do today?" Lance shrugged.

"The usual, play my guitar and draw." Chasey nodded.

"Did daddy yell at you?" Lance snorted.

"Doesn't he always," he said not looking up and strumming his guitar. Chasey sighed, she told her dad often to leave Lance alone, like he ever listened. Sometimes she wished that her dad would love Lance like he did her and her sister, but she knew that wasn't the case. It would never happen, because Mark would never change.

"Mama says you're spending the weekend with us." Lance looked up and smiled.

"Yeah, I am." Chasey smiled at her older brother.

"I miss you living here, we used to have so much fun." Lance nodded, that they did. Late night sleepovers, camping trips, pillow fights. He smiled at the distant memories. Sometimes he wished he could go back in time to that day when all he had to worry about was when his daddy was coming to get him. He sighed, those were the days. He heard the door open. He gulped and set his guitar on the floor.

"What's are ya doin?" Lance shrugged.

"Talkin to Chasey." Mark narrowed his eyes and walked towards the computer screen. He smiled at the sight.

"Hi daddy," the little girl said giggling. Mark smiled back.

"Hey sweetie. How are you?"

"Good, just talkin' to Lance 'fore I have to go to bed." Mark nodded.

"How's yer sister?"

"She's good, Mama is too. How's Michelle?"

"She's alright. Sweetie, I'll talk to you soon ok, tell yer brother goodnight." Chasey pouted.

"But daddy, we just started talkin." Mark grunted. "Fine, night Lance I'll talk to ya soon." She cast a menacing glare at Mark before the screen went blank. Lance smiled to himself, she was just as fiery as Mark was if not more. Sometimes it made him happy to know that he had a smaller version of Mark as his ally. It was a good deal indeed. Lance closed his computer screen and readied himself for bed. He shook his head, he'd never understand why he was forced to be in bed by nine o'clock every night.

"You ready fer bed?" Lance nodded. Mark sighed. "Boy, you know I uh love ya right?" Lance nodded, even if he didn't feel like it. "Well I do, that's why I'm tryin' to make a man outta ya." Lance nodded. "You understand?" Again Lance nodded feeling more like a bobble head doll each time. "Good, now get some sleep." Lance sighed as he watched Mark walk out of the room. All Lance ever wanted was for Mark to hug him before he went to bed. Lance wiped his eyes, did that mean he wasn't a man now? Lance shook his head, he'd never be the man Mark wanted him to be, no matter how hard he tried. Lance turned out the light and rolled onto his side. He felt tears begin to slide down his cheeks and for what seemed like the thousandth time in his life, Jeremy Lance Calaway, cried himself to sleep. He just wasn't good enough, no matter how hard he tried.


	6. Chapter 6

_I don't own any WWE wrestlers or figures utilized in this story. This is all from the mind of a brilliant scientist._

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><p>Lance sighed as he picked himself off of the ground after being pancaked by one of the older kids. Shaking his head he pulled off his helmet and looked around the field. Why on earth was he here? He hated football. He hated sweating. He hated his life most days. Grunting he heard a loud whistle in his ear. He turned a menacing scowl at the assailant. It was Grant...the assistant coach. Lance rolled his eyes when the man smiled cockily at him. "Ya know the rules, no helmet means ya run laps." Lance sighed and rubbed his head.<p>

"Whatever," he muttered. The man smiled.

"Twenty laps." Lance's eyes bulged out of his head. He couldn't run twenty laps, it was the dead of Texas heat. He shook his head and dropped his helmet at the man's feet.

"I quit," he said. The man smiled.

"I knew ya would little wussy." Lance shot the man a side ways glance and stormed angrily off the field.

"I hate this place. I hate this stupid team. I hate my father for..." Lance saw a shadow fall on him.

"You hate your father fer what?" Lance took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. Great. Lance turned around to face his father.

"Nothin, sir." Mark crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrow.

"Why aren't ya practicin'?" Lance chewed his lip...why wasn't Mark at the stupid office? "I asked ya a question." Lance sighed. This was not going to end well.

"I quit." Mark laughed softly and dusted the dirt off his shoe. He took off his sunglasses and looked down at the boy. Lance faltered losing any confidence he'd previously had. No matter what anyone said, Mark was scary.

"You what? Lance gulped.

"I uh quit." He puffed his chest out a little. "I hate it." Mark smiled and looked towards the sky. The boy thought he could make his own decisions. Mark turned to Grant, who was now standing there.

"What do you think about this Grant?" The man laughed.

"I think quittin' ain't an option." Mark smiled and nodded.

"Quittin' ain't an option, boy." Lance shook his head and felt the tears rise to his eyes. Why was his life this way? Lance snorted trying to stop the tears. Mark shook his head. "Get outta my sight." Lance did exactly what he felt like doing so many times before...he ran. He ran from his problems and away from his father. Why? Why just couldn't he be happy...just once. Just _one _time.

* * *

><p>Lance looked down at his cell phone distantly as he watched Mark whoop and yell for Chasey as she sliced through opponents on the soccer field. He laughed bitterly, all Mark did when he watched Lance play football was either scream that he needed to get up and suck it up or sit and talk to his friends. Lance sighed, he wasn't even sure if he could call what he did on the field as playing, it was more like getting hit hard and falling even harder. He sighed and set his head in his hands. Why couldn't he fit in? The more he watched Mark cheer and scream that number seven was his child, the more like an outsider he felt. He didn't fit in...he never would.<p>

Lance felt his phone buzz. He looked down and smiled. It was Cal, his best friend. Sliding the phone open Lance smiled for the first time that day. "Hey, what's going on?" Lance rested his chin on his fist.

"The usual Saturday event, watching my dad yell and scream for my sister." Cal nodded. He knew pretty much all of the sad details about Lance's life, and it annoyed him to no end. The two had met two years ago at art camp and had been practically inseparable ever since. They were practically the same person, well minus the fact that Cal was Samoan Indian. But color or heritage didn't matter to those two, their bond extended beyond the skin, it went straight to the their love of art.

"Can you come over tonight?" Lance shrugged.

"I don't know, I got in trouble earlier for tryin' to quit football." Cal laughed, it was about time. Lance felt someone sit next to him. He smiled when he saw who it was...Ms. Sara. The woman pulled Lance's head close to her lips as she spoke into them.

"Your dad is going out of town tonight." She smiled. "You're staying with us." Lance turned to her and smiled.

"Hey Cal, you want to stay over tomorrow night?" Sara smiled at Lance and the boy returned it, maybe he did fit somewhere.

* * *

><p>Lance sat at the counter pushing his spaghetti around on the plate. He just couldn't focus. Mark's words kept swirling around in his head. "Maybe when I come back, you'll be a man," he'd said. Lance grunted as he stabbed a meatball. Why had he said that? Lance was so confused. He was trying so hard to be a man...he really was. He worked on the farm and he watched his sisters protecting them, what else was there? Lance felt a tear. He silently cursed himself. That was why he wasn't a man. He couldn't even stop crying.<p>

He sighed, sometimes he just couldn't understand his life. First he hadn't been enough for his parents and now he wasn't enough for Mark. Why had he even bothered to try? Why? His thoughts were broken into by someone sitting at the table in front of him. He shook his head, of course it was her.

"What's wrong Scooter?" Lance shrugged and looked down at his plate, he didn't want her to see him crying. Sara sighed. She already knew what was bothering him before she asked. That boy had a hard row to hoe. At every turn Mark was trying to break him down, and as much as she hated it there was nothing she could do about it. Lance wasn't her son. He wasn't. "Lance?" she prodded. The boy sighed and banged his fist on the table.

"I just want him to like me." Sara's heart broke, she could tell from his voice that he was crying.

"Lance," she said soothingly. The boy shook his head.

"No! Just leave me alone!" Pushing himself away from the table the boy took off out the back door. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he was tired of people pitying him. He just wanted to be a man. No more tears, no more emotions. No nothin'. Lance just ran and ran. All he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die. His vision was blurring as the tears stained his cheeks. Why? Lance finally stopped running as he slid down the trunk of a tree. What was the point?

An hour later, Lance heard the soft footsteps coming behind him. He smiled bitterly. She chased him when his own father wouldn't have. He laughed, some father he had. Shaking his head, he knew the real problem. Some son he was...Mark was ashamed of him. Choking on a sob, he knew he should be. Lance was an embarrassment, to himself _and _the Calaway name. The woman sat down next to him. For a while, she didn't say anything. Lance knew what she was doing, she was trying to bait him in with his emotions. He wasn't going to have any of that. He was going to be strong. He was. He hoped he was. Finally she spoke.

"Lance?" The boy shook his head.

"Leave me alone." Sara shook her head, she could hear it in his voice..the boy was broken.

"Lance," she prodded again. "Lance talk to me." Again he shook his head.

"Leave me alone...please," he begged. Sara shook her head. Lance hadn't even gotten the words out before he broke down crying. She quietly wrapped the boy in her embrace. "I'm too weak," he said. Sara shook her head.

"Ssh," she cooed. Lance broke into a sob.

"I embarrass him." Sara sighed.

"Lance..." the boy just shook his head.

"He doesn't want me, he never did." Sara sighed shaking her head, she and Mark were going to talk. "He told Michelle that if he'd saved his sperm he could have gotten a better one." Sara became enraged. Who would say that? Sighing she continued to soothe the now sobbing boy. If she had her way, Mark would never see his son again. She grunted, and she just might make that happen.

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><p>Sorry for the delay guys! I hope you enjoyed!<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

_I don't own any WWE wrestlers or figures utilized in this story. This is all from the mind of a brilliant scientist._

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><p>Lance sighed as he sat idly in the back of his sixth grade class. He knew that from experience his night at home wouldn't be a joyous one. No matter how hard Lance tried he couldn't stop thinking about the problem he'd caused between Sara and Mark. He gulped as he remembered the fighting and the screaming. Lance twirled his pen around as he thought back to that night when it'd all changed.<p>

"_Sara, I told you to stay out of this." Lance and his sisters were sitting on the couch where they had been watching a movie before Mark came. _

"_Mark are you nuts, you told that tramp," Sara stopped herself, she didn't need to name call. "You told that woman, that you should have waited to get a better son? Have you lost your entire mind?" Mark cursed._

"_No Sara, I haven't. The boy needs to man up and I'm tired of babying him. One day this phase needs to end." Sara rolled her eyes._

"_Mark, it's not a phase. The boy, who's name is Lance by the way. Is a sweet, funny, and caring little boy. So he's artistic, and not athletic, he's an amazing artist. Have you ever heard any of his music?" Mark shifted._

"_Some of it." Sara rolled her eyes. _

"_How about you listen to all of it and then talk to me." Mark grunted._

"_Look, just shutup and stay out of my business. Jeremy Lance, let's go." Sara shook her head._

"_No, Lance stay there!" Her voice got dangerously low so the kids could no longer hear the shouting. "I'm not going to let you break this boy's spirit anymore. You don't want him? Fine. I called my lawyer this morning and we're filing for custody tomorrow." Mark saw red._

"_How dare you try to take my son away from me!" Lance and his sisters jumped at the drastic increase in noise. Gracie started to whimper. _

"_I don't like it when Mama and Daddy fight." Lance sighed and pulled his little sister close to his chest. _

"_It'll be ok, Gracie, Mama will fix everything." The girl smiled at him. Lance sighed, sometimes he did wish that she was his mama, then at least he'd have one. He shook his head and glanced at Chasey who looked outraged._

"_Sometimes, I hate him." Lance sighed, he just hoped that they finished yelling soon._

"_Sara, I'll say this one last time. Stay out of my business." Mark paused. "If ya don't, you'll never see the boy again, do you hear me?" Sara rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest._

"_That seems highly unlikely, see because, I'm suing you for custody on the grounds of emotional abuse, there's no way you'll win. If you know what's good for you, you'll change your caveman ways and accept him for who he is. Now, get out." Mark shook his head._

"_Not without my son." Sara sighed._

"_I'm not releasing you to him." Mark grunted._

"_I have custody, I'll call the police." Sara raised her eyebrow._

"_Do you really want to do that? I am the police chief's daughter after all." Mark grunted and shook his head, she was right. Cursing he turned to leave. _

"_Fine, but he's coming home with me tomorrow." Sara smiled. She wouldn't have it any other way. _

Lance sighed. From what he'd heard, there was a hearing today about where he'd live. He wasn't sure, but he knew his dad was a powerful man with powerful friends. Lance sighed. Either way would suck. Either he'd have a dad and no Sara or a Sara and no dad. As far as he was concerned, this was a lose-lose situation.

"Lance Calaway?" The boy looked up at his teacher. "You're wanted in the principal's office." The class oohed as Lance gathered his things for the day. The long walk to the principal's office was having his stomach in knots. Once he entered the room his heart fell into his stomach.

"Ms. Michelle?" The woman turned around and hugged him tightly. "Lance, baby, I thought you were in the truck with him." Lance was confused.

"I don't understand," he said timidly. Michelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Lance, your father has been in an accident."


End file.
